


Dream World

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Butt Plugs, First Time, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal both strive to tear down the barriers that are keeping them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Only in His Dreams

Everyone wanted to build up walls between him and Hannibal.

Will's hands clenched into fists, so tightly that after a few moments, he raised them to his face with a sharp exclamation of pain. His nails had dug into the palms of his hands, leaving half-moon marks that almost looked like stigmata wounds.

In some ways, that was what he felt like, Will thought with a soft sigh. He felt that he was being crucified on the altar of expectations.

No one wanted him to be involved with Hannibal. They expected him to do what they wanted, to be a good boy and obey the rules, to keep himself away from the man he was more and more attracted to. They all told him that he needed to work, not to be in a relationship.

Of course, if Hannibal was a woman, it would be different.

Will's lip curled at the thought; he could tell that the man reason the people he worked with warned him against a relationship with Hannibal was because they thought ti wouldn't be "normal." But he didn't give a damn what they thought. He didn't want to be with a woman.

He wanted Hannibal. He wanted to be with a man, and if people didn't like it, then that was too bad for them. He wasn't going to give up his dreams.

Maybe Hannibal wasn't even feeling the same attraction that he did. Maybe he could only be with Hannibal in his dreams; maybe they weren't meant to be anything but friends. Maybe his dreams were all that he would ever have of the other man.

But those dreams were keeping him alive, keeping him going day by day. Only in his dreams was he able to be completely happy, to be the person he wanted to be.

If only he could make those dreams come true.

Only in his dreams could he be with Hannibal, at least for now. Will could swear that he had seen a glimmer of desire in Hannibal's eyes more than once when their gazes had met; he wanted to believe that Hannibal was interested in him.

He'd thought that he had kept his own desire for the other man well hidden, but apparently not. He'd been warned about not becoming involved.

But he wasn't going to pay any attention to what other people told him. He was going to move ahead, reach for what he wanted, try to make those dreams become real. If he didn't try, then he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Somehow, he would make those dreams come true, no matter what it might take.


	2. When I Dream At Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has been dreaming about Will more and more frequently.

Hannibal awakened suddenly, his eyes flying open; he gasped, one hand pressing against his chest. For a moment, it had felt as though he couldn't breathe; he lay there, blinking, trying to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of his bedroom.

He had been dreaming again, one of those dreams that he desperately wished could come true, a dream that was haunting him each and every night.

He had dreamed of Will. More specifically, of making love to Will, of joining their bodies in the most primitive of rhythms, of feeling Will's flesh beneath his fingertips, of being inside him, of knowing his body completely, just as he knew the young man's mind.

It was the most enticing dream he'd ever experienced.

His dreams of Will were becoming more and more frequent; at the rate he was going, the dreams would spill over from his nocturnal self into his waking hours, and he would give Will some sort of indication of how he felt. He didn't want that to happen.

Hannibal was fairly sure that the young man wanted him; he could tell simply from the way Will's gaze had a tendency to follow him, from the longing look he'd seen on those handsome features. That pleased him; Will wanting him was something he could handle.

Himself wanting Will was another matter altogether. If he took advantage of those feelings, if he let himself take what he wanted, then he could lose his license to practice psychiatry. He could even go to jail, though he doubted that Will would press any charges.

No, Will would never do that, even if he hadn't returned Hannibal's interest. But Hannibal had no doubt that he did; he was sure that even now, Will was dreaming of him, just as dreamed of Will every night. They were on the same path, sharing the same desires.

Sooner or later, those desires would meet and merge as one.

Hannibal didn't know when that would happen; he had no idea how long it would take for the two of them to make their desires known to the other. He only knew that until they did, the dreams would keep getting more intense, more realistic.

He had the definite feeling that Will was already being drawn into those dreams. He had to be very careful that the same thing didn't happen to him.

He had no intention of becoming entangled in those dreams to the point where he couldn't easily extricate himself. But he _was_ going to enjoy those dreams to the fullest -- and when they became reality, he would enjoy them even more.


	3. Daydreams About Night Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's daydreams about Hannibal are becoming more erotic, and starting to interfere with his work.

Will closed his eyes, a smile curving his lips. He could see Hannibal bending over him, the other man sweaty and disheveled, the sunlight coming through the window behind him limning his body in gold. Hannibal smiled down at him, his dark eyes almost seeming to glow ....

Will gasped, his eyes flying open as he sat straight up in his chair. It was a good thing there were no people around; he didn't want anyone to see him like this.

He had to fight the urge to reach for his jacket and drape it over his lap; it was enough that he was sitting behind a desk. No one would see the obvious bulge in his jeans. No one would guess that he'd been letting his daydreams run wild again.

He'd been daydreaming about Hannibal.

More to the point, he'd been daydreaming about what he wanted Hannibal to do to him. He'd been imagining them in bed, making love, the other man taking him over and over again until he begged for more -- or was he begging Hannibal to stop?

He didn't know the answer to that question, and it worried him. His daydreams were starting to become much more erotic, pushing boundaries that he hadn't realized he possessed. And more often than not, they were crossing over those boundaries.

These daydreams about things that should only happen at night had to stop. He had to put away these thoughts of Hannibal making love to him in the middle of the day, the sunlight outlining his body, the two of them haloed in the warmth of that sun ....

He was doing it again. Will almost cursed as he shoved his chair back from the desk, running a hand through his hair. He _had_ to stop thinking about Hannibal like this. Those daydreams were getting more vivid, less easy to push aside.

The problem was that he didn't _want_ them to stop.

He wanted to keep daydreaming about Hannibal. He wanted to keep thinking about what he wanted the other man to do to him, wanted to keep imagining their bodies locked together in a primal embrace. Those daydreams were what was keeping him going.

Without them, he'd feel empty and lost. If he didn't have those daydreams to cling to, then all of his hopes of ever being with Hannibal would be extinguished.

Will slumped forward onto his desk, resting his head in his hands. He couldn't give up these dreams -- but he couldn't keep letting them invade the reality of his working world, either. Somehow, he'd have to keep those two worlds separate -- no matter how hard it might be.


	4. I'll See You in My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will hates that his insomnia keeps him from dreaming about Hannibal.

He hated having insomnia.

Will sighed softly as he turned over in bed, wishing that he could fall asleep. He had been lying here for over two hours now, tossing and turning, unable to fall into the realm of dreams. His insomnia seemed to get worse with each passing night.

He had no idea why he couldn't sleep; he'd done everything he knew of to exacerbate his condition. Maybe he needed to see a doctor about it.

The sleeplessness hadn't been this bad until he'd begun working with Jack Crawford. Will couldn't help but think that a big part of him not being able to sleep was due to the horrific sights that he was forced to view on an almost daily basis.

He didn't want to see those things, but he had to.

That was the worst part about what he did. He didn't want to look at the dead bodies, didn't want to delve into the minds of the people who had done such things. But it was his job -- and if he didn't do it, then the victims wouldn't get the justice they deserved.

The only thing that made his dreams better was when Hannibal came into them -- and fortunately, that was happening on a more regular basis lately. Hannibal soothed his soul, made him feel comfortable; he could sink into those dreams, revel in them.

It was getting to the point where he looked forward to seeing Hannibal in his dreams just as much as he did actually seeing the other man for their impromptu psychiatric sessions. Those dreams were what made going to sleep at night bearable.

Seeing Hannibal in his dreams pushed away the nightmarish visions that he usually had -- visions of blood and death, and the stag that seemed to chase through nearly every dream he had. Hannibal made them all go away, banished them to another realm.

Seeing Hannibal in his dreams made him feel .... _alive_.

Alive and vital and pulsing with anticipation in a way that he never had before. That was how the man made him feel any time he was near; there was something about Hannibal that brought all of Will's senses to attention, made his body tremble and his heart sing.

Sighing softly, Will turned over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to fell asleep, to see Hannibal in his dreams once again.

He closed his eyes, determined to fall asleep. He _would_ see Hannibal in his dreams tonight -- and every other night from here on out. And tomorrow, he would see Hannibal in the flesh -- which was even better than having the man he loved walk through his dreams.

At this rate, the morning might come more quickly than sleep did.


	5. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wishes there wasn't so much distance between his home and Hannibal's.

He loved kissing Hannibal.

Will sighed contentedly, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck, pulling Hannibal closer against him. This was what he had been made for -- to be here in Hannibal's arms, to be kissed by this man, to let Hannibal make love to him.

He had never been happier than he was at this moment; he'd never felt more as though he could sink into the happiness he felt, luxuriate in it.

All he needed was for Hannibal to keep kissing him ....

Will's eyes opened, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Hannibal was nowhere in sight, and the warmth of his kiss had abruptly faded, leaving only a memory to linger in Will's mind. A memory that still felt real.

He had dreamed that kiss, dreamed that Hannibal was here with him. Sighing, he rolled over, burying his face in the softness of the pillow.

He wanted to be in Baltimore with Hannibal, in bed with him, with those strong arms wrapped around him. That was infinitely more preferable then being alone here, in his own bed in Wolf Trap, far away from the man he loved.

But here he was, alone and unhappy.

It wasn't as though he could simply jump in the car and drive to Baltimore. No, it was the middle of the night -- closer to morning than evening, at this point -- and Hannibal would be asleep. He wasn't going to wake the other man up that rudely.

A phone call wouldn't do, even if he could think of a reason to call. No, he needed to be there, in Hannibal's arms, to feel his lover's kiss on his lips.

Maybe if he closed his eyes, then he would be able to feel that kiss again. Maybe he would be able to bring the sensation of being in Hannibal's arms to mind, and let himself sink into it, to lose himself in that kiss and drift off into another world.

Unfortunately, he didn't think that was going to be enough.

Why had he awakened just when he was getting to the good part of his dream? Will almost laughed when he realized that his lower lip was stuck out like a pouty child's, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He was more upset about this than he should be.

It didn't matter that he was here alone, and that he couldn't see Hannibal until sometime later in the day. Not really. He would be with his lover eventually.

At some point, they would have to think about moving in together -- or at least about Will moving into the city to be closer to Hannibal. Having an hour's worth of distance between their homes wasn't conducive to a good relationship. The distance would end up getting in the way.

Or would it? Did they _need_ to keep a little distance between them?

Will didn't think so. Maybe at the moment, while their relationship was new and they were still getting used to being a couple. it made sense for them to have their own homes, even to be so far apart. But it could pose a problem later on.

Then again, what did he know? It wasn't like he had a lot of experience with relationships. He had nothing to compare this to; it was all new to him.

Being with Hannibal made him happy. That was really the only thing that mattered to him. Having someone to love took away the loneliness, the feeling of isolation that he'd always been trapped in. Someone finally cared enough to reach out a hand to him.

And he finally cared enough about someone to take that hand.

Will turned over onto his side, curling up under the covers and closing his eyes again. Maybe if he thought hard enough about Hannibal's kiss, he'd be able to sleep again -- and go back into that wonderful dream he'd been having when he'd awakened.

Surprisingly, it only took him a few moments to fall asleep; it didn't take long for the dream to wrap around him again, making him smile and assuaging his loneliness.


	6. Howling At the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is frustrated that Will is far away in Wolf Trap and not with him.

Will was in Wolf Trap, and he was here in Baltimore. This was not how he wanted things to be.

Hannibal clenched his fists as his sides, scowling at nothing in particular. It was a good thing that there was no one here with him, or he would probably burst out into angry words over some imagined slight. He wasn't in the best of moods.

He wanted Will here with him, dammit. Where he should be. Stretched out on his bed, naked and vulnerable, while Hannibal did unspeakably erotic things to his body.

Will belonged here, with him, not in some godforsaken place far off the beaten path. True, his house had its own sort of charm, and it would be a lovely place to have for a weekend getaway. But he hated the fact that Will hid himself away there.

Will should be on display like the beauty he was, not hidden in the background.

He intended to put a stop to that hiding at some point, but he knew that he would have to coax Will along gently. The younger man wasn't going to succumb easily to the idea of coming out of hiding; he'd been doing it for far too long, and was too used to not being seen.

He wanted to bring Will into the spotlight, to show the world how beautiful he was, but he had to do that slowly and carefully.

If he moved too quickly, then Will would scuttle back into his shell, into his self-imposed exile, and he might never be convinced to come out again.

It mystified Hannibal as to just why the young man was so reluctant to let people see what a beauty he was, why he chose to hide his light under the proverbial bushel; but the fact remained that he did, and that Hannibal intended to put a stop to it.

He also intended to make Will his, in every way.

There was a part of him that didn't like the idea of others looking at Will and seeing just how lovely he was, but in all good conscience, he couldn't allow such beauty to be hidden. Beauty like Will's was meant to be appreciated by as many people as possible.

Of course, that beauty belonged to _him_ , and he intended to make sure that no one trespassed on his province. No one else would have Will. Ever.

They could look, but not touch. Anyone who dared to lay a finger on Will would more than likely find that they had lost that finger -- and much more. There were definite boundaries, and Hannibal wouldn't let anyone cross a single one of them.

No one wold touch Will and live. That was a vow he would keep.

But first, he had to find a way to get Will here, to mesmerize the young man, to bring Will completely under his control. And he was no magician.

He had thought that doing so would be easy; he already knew that Will wanted him. He could see the desire in the depths of those blue eyes; it wasn't something that Will could easily keep hidden. Yes, there was a way to bring Will to him.

He would play on that desire shamelessly, if he had to. He would do whatever it took to bring Will under his spell, make the young man dependent on him. He would become the center of Will's universe. It wouldn't be hard for him to do. Not at all.

Not when Will already wanted him. He had malleable clay to work with, clay that would put itself willingly into his hands, not knowing what he intended.

Ah, yes, he could certainly work with that.

In the end, Will would be his. He had no doubt about that, not for a moment. But in the meantime, Will was in Wolf Trap, not here in Baltimore. He was an hour's drive away, longer in this pouring rain. And Hannibal knew that he couldn't make the trip tonight.

He felt like howling at the moon, like a wolf in heat, simply to let out the frustration that he felt at not having Will here so he could move along with his plans.

He had always been a patient man. But tonight, his patience was being stretched to the limit. He wanted Will, and he wanted him _now_. It was all he could do not to get into his car and drive to Wolf Trap, propriety be damned.

But he wouldn't. He would let this night go by in solitude.

If he showed up at Will's door, and they were alone in that house in Wolf Trap together, there was no telling what he might do. He might take Will, far too soon, without meaning to. His desire for the young man might burst its bounds and never look back.

If he had Will here tonight, his plans would move _too_ quickly. Even though he prided himself on his self-control, he doubted that he would be able to keep it.

Will was far too much of a temptation, especially given the way he felt at the moment. It was a good thing that several miles of distance separated them.

Hannibal took one deep breath, then another, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the cool panes of the window in his living room. He wasn't going to drive to Wolf Trap. He would wait to be with Will until the next time the young man was here in town.

And he wouldn't spend his evening howling at the moon in frustration.

He needed to read a book, take a long hot shower, anything to get Will off his mind. If he didn't, then this frustration was only going to grow, and he might decide to go out on one of his .... nocturnal excursions. In the mood he was in, he could be careless and make mistakes.

That wouldn't do. He would have to find a way to sublimate his frustration, even if that _did_ mean that he might howl at the moon a time or two.

Sighing, Hannibal left the living room and made his way towards the stairs, deciding to take a shower and then settle down in bed with a book. It would help him to keep his mind a way from more provocative things -- such as how Will would look lying naked under him.

Tonight, he would be patient. But he knew that he wouldn't have long to wait.


	7. Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will fears that if he continues sleepwalking, he'll wander into a world that he won't be able to find his way out of.

He wasn't lost. He knew where he was.

Will stood in the middle of the road, looking around him, feeling disoriented. He had been sleepwalking again; he had only snapped into consciousness a few moments before, with no idea of what he was doing or how long he'd been away from his house.

Winston was right behind him, whining softly. Thank goodness for the dog, Will thought as he glanced down and absently patted the dog's head.

He should have known that at least one of the dogs would be by his side when he was sleepwalking. Winston always seemed to be there whenever he had an episode, as though the animal was watching over him and protecting him.

It was good to know that he'd always have a protector, Will thought, heaving a sigh. But he still felt horribly alone and exposed; he had to get back home.

He knew exactly where he was; somehow, he'd managed to wander a little over a mile from the house. It wasn't going to be comfortable walking back home in his bare feet, but he would survive. And at least he could walk on the pavement.

He took a deep breath and turned around to head back home.

He would have to tell Hannibal about this, and he didn't relish that idea. He didn't like going over and over the possible reasons for his sleepwalking.

Hannibal always questioned why he chose to wander in the dead of night, when that was the time he would be most vulnerable and alone, with no one around to help him should be get into trouble. But Will argued that he didn't do it consciously.

Of course, it was his subconscious trying to tell him something. He was sure of that. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to know what it was saying to him.

His lover would tell him that he was running from something, and that it wasn't healthy. Hannibal would say that he should stand up to his demons, fight them to the death, and emerge victorious. But Will wasn't so sure that he was running away.

Not everyone who wandered was lost. Maybe he was just wandering in search of something, even though he didn't know just what he searched for.

If that was what the case, then he wasn't doing a very good job of searching.

Whatever he was looking for hadn't revealed itself to him; it was still out there in the darkness somewhere, patiently waiting for Will to find it. He didn't know if he ever would, or if he'd ever even discover just what it was that he was groping blindly towards.

Answers. That was what he was searching for. His brain ran around in circles trying to find them during his waking hours, and when he couldn't, he turned to his dreams.

But even in his dream world, answers weren't forthcoming. He tossed and turned and couldn't reach out for them -- and that was when his body took over.

That was why he walked in his sleep. That was why he wandered. He was searching for the answers that he couldn't find either in his reality or in his dreams; his body decided that those answers couldn't be found where he was, and went searching for them elsewhere.

It was terrifying to think that he had no control over what his sleeping body did.

He didn't want to lose control. He didn't want to let his body simply take over; it would be too easy for him to wander into a situation that might be dangerous.

When he was sleepwalking, he had no control over where he went and what he did. The last thing he wanted to do was wander into some situation that he couldn't get out of -- and that he didn't know how he'd gotten into in the first place.

That would be far too easy to do. Even though eh might not be lost when his body wandered, he wasn't cognizant of what was going on around him.

He didn't want to wake up and realize that he _was_ truly lost. That would be far too easy to do; it was one of his greatest fears, that he would somehow wander off into some place that he couldn't come back from. Some place that was .... disconnected from the reality he knew.

Not all who wandered were lost, that was true. But Will was sure that if his sleeping body kept wandering, he would inevitably become lost -- and never be found.

Will shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.

It was cold out here, cold and lonely. He felt more lost than he had when he'd awakened and not known for a moment exactly where he was or how he'd gotten there; then, he had only felt that he was lost in the directional sense. Now, he felt lost in more ways than one.

He was lost in a realm that he didn't know how to find his way out of. Lost in a reality that wasn't his, in a place where anything could happen.

The only person who he could trust was Hannibal. His lover was the only one who would hold out a hand, who would try to help him find the way out of any confusing maze he might find himself caught up in. The man he loved was also the only one he could trust.

Will realized that while he'd been thinking, his steps had carried him closer to home. He could see the house now, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Somehow, he had managed to find his way back from wherever he had wandered off to. But there might come a time when that wouldn't happen, when the wanderer _would_ be well and truly lost. He didn't want that day to come.

Because once he was truly lost, he knew that he would never be found again.


	8. Wilderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is terrified that his sleepwalking will leave him stranded in a darkness that he'll never be able to find his way out of.

Will shivered as he huddled under a blanket on his couch after getting back inside the house; he still felt the chill of being outside in nothing but his t-shirt and boxers. He hated sleepwalking, especially in the winter. One of these days, he'd end up with pneumonia.

He was surprised that he didn't have frostbite; there was no telling how long he'd been walking around outside barefoot, with barely any clothes on.

The sleepwalking was getting worse lately, and he had no idea how to stop it. Was it proof that he was further disconnecting from reality, that his mind was going off into some wilderness that his body tried to follow it to? The thought was terrifying.

Will was afraid that he would get lost in that wilderness.

What if something happened to him the next time his body decided to go for a walk in his sleep? What if he was hit by a car while he was walking down the middle of the road?

Or what if .... Will shivered at the thought as his mind completed it. What if he was attacked? Kidnapped? Raped? Would his body continue to sleep through such a physical experience? Or would be somehow wake up during the middle of it?

The scariest thing was that he was completely in the darkness when it came to dealing with this problem. He didn't know anyone else who sleepwalked; even reading about others' experiences never seemed to truly describe his own.

He was in the dark, and he couldn't help feeling that he was wandering around lost, with no way to get back to the light and to safety.

Even Hannibal couldn't help him with this.

Nobody could help him. He was fumbling in the darkness, and he would have to find his own way out. There was no one there to help him, no one to guide him into the light. He would simply have to take whatever helping hand might be held out.

Hannibal would hold out that hand, he was sure. He would simply have to trust in the other man to lead him to safety, to where he needed to be.

Will shivered again, wishing that Hannibal's hand was held out to him now. He needed to find a way out of the darkness before it swallowed him up. He didn't want to enter it again; better to stay away from it, and hope that it wouldn't reach out for him any time soon.


	9. Hide From the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contemplating how out of control he is when he's sleepwalking makes Will want to hide from the world.

The sun was awfully bright. Had he left his bedroom window open?

Will opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus on what was around him. He wasn't in his bedroom; that was obvious. No, he was lying on the couch in the living room, dawn breaking outside, the sun just beginning to come up and filter through the windows.

He'd left the fire going last night, but it had burned down to mere ashes in the grate. The dogs were all on their blankets in front of the fire, looking drowsy and comfortable.

Everything around him was as it should be. 

So why did this little tableau, one that should be comforting for him, feel as though it was somehow off-kilter? Was it just because he knew that he'd been sleepwalking for part of the night? Or was it because he wasn't quite back in the realm he belonged in yet?

He still felt shaken by his body's loss of control. Shaken and terrified.

The sleepwalking was getting more serious now; it was happening more than ever. It wasn't something that he could control, and that was the most frightening aspect of it. The knowledge that his body was doing things that he didn't control unnerved him.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the windows. It had started snowing while he'd slept; the white drifts were already piling up on the porch.

Will shivered at the thought, feeling more uneasy than ever. What if he'd gone outside sleepwalking in the snow, in nothing but a t-shirt, boxers, and barefoot?

He didn't even want to think about what kind of physical condition he would have been in when he'd woken up from _that_. He would more than likely have had frostbite, or worse. And he wouldn't have been able to get himself to a hospital.

He closed his eyes again, huddling under the blanket.

Hide from the world. That was what he wanted to do. He didn't want to think about his sleepwalking, or the trouble it could get him into. He wanted to forget all of his problems, find some comfortable oblivion and sink into it, and never have to come out again.

But he couldn't do that. He had too many responsibilities.

What he _should_ do was go to Hannibal's and talk to him about this. It was really all he _could_ do. Maybe the older man wold have some answers.

He'd have to drive there in the snow, Will thought with a sigh. Not something he was looking forward to, but he had to see Hannibal. If the snow got worse and he happened to get caught in Baltimore overnight, then he would deal with that when and if it happened.

He stood up, moving towards the stairs. The sooner he got going, the better.


	10. Without Guidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thought that his body can go out and do things without his mind guiding it terrifies Will.

"So you have no memory of what you might have done while you were sleepwalking? Not even a small inkling?" Hannibal's voice seemed to come from a long way off, though Will was sitting on the couch right next to him, close enough to touch.

Will took a deep breath, trying to stop his voice from trembling. "No. I just woke up there, in the middle of the woods, and I wasn't sure exactly where I was."

"This is happening more and more often, Will," Hannibal told him, his voice concerned. "I know you cannot simply turn it on and off, but you have to try to do something to make this stop. It could be more dangerous for you than you might think."

He turned his head to look at Hannibal, his brow furrowing.

"Dangerous? How do you mean?" Will asked, his voice slightly breathless. "It's not like anybody's out there with me. Nobody's going to come after me."

Hannibal shook his head, his brow furrowing in concern. "Will, you don't know that. There could be anyone out there in the woods around your house, possibly someone who is simply looking for a victim. I would not want you to become one."

"Neither do I," Will answered with a shudder, closing his eyes and sitting back. He searched his memory for any little scrap of detail that he might be able to recall, but there was nothing. He had no idea what his body might have done while he'd been sleepwalking.

No idea where it might have taken him, or what kind of interaction it could have with another person. It was simply acting on its own, without benefit of his mind's guidance.

That thought was absolutely terrifying.

"Perhaps we should admit you to a hospital and have you take a CAT scan, and an MRI," Hannibal told him, his gaze seeming to penetrate into Will's consciousness. "I want you to be healthy, Will. And I have the distinct feeling that at the moment, you are not."

"I think I have to agree with that assessment," Will said with a nod and a sigh. "You're right. I hate going to the hospital, but it looks like I don't really have a choice."

He didn't like the idea, but as he'd just said, he didn't have a choice. He had to find out just what was wrong with him, what was causing the sleepwalking. And if he couldn't find out and fill in those gaps in his memory .... well, then, that was a bridge he'd cross when he came to it.


	11. Walking in His Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is distressed to discover that he's been sleepwalking again -- this time, in the pouring rain.

He'd done it again. He'd been sleepwalking again.

Will huddled under the blanket that he'd wrapped himself when he'd finally limped back into his home; he was drenched, soaked to the bone. He'd been sleepwalking in the pouring rain, in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt, barefoot on the asphalt.

He had woken up on the road, not knowing where he was for a few moments, having no idea why he was outside in the pouring rain.

Then he realized that he'd been sleepwalking -- and the fear had set in, a numbing, paralyzing fear that had threatened to take him over and make him sink to his knees, or collapse in a sobbing, wailing heap on the road, to just lie there in the rain.

But he hadn't done that. He hadn't let himself break down.

Winston had been with him, and the dog had guided him home. For a few moments, he'd been completely disoriented, with no idea of where he was in relation to his house.

Winston had taken care of that, getting him turned around again, getting him back on the right track to home. He had limped most of the way there; his feet had been aching, which wasn't surprising, considering that he was walking barefoot.

He'd gone about two miles, which must have taken him a while in his sleep. He was lucky that Winston had stuck right by his side.

Will didn't want to think of what he would have done without his dog; he was lucky to have Winston. Fate had definitely been watching out for them both when he'd picked the dog up on the side of the road and taken him home; it was a very good thing he took in strays.

He sighed softly, leaning back against the couch cushions and closing his eyes. He was something of a stray himself, wasn't he? That was probably what Hannibal would say.

It seemed that Hannibal was right about everything lately.

Hannibal wanted him to have an MRI, a CAT scan, and now he was convinced that his lover was right about that. It had been scheduled for Monday afternoon, and he'd thought that he would be all right and stay stable over the weekend. 

He hadn't expected this. He hadn't imagined that he would be sleepwalking. He had thought that he'd have a comfortable weekend, and then see to the problem.

Apparently, his unconscious mind had other ideas. The sleepwalking had already made him nervous and tense, kept him on edge. Now, it was actually starting to frighten him. He didn't know what his body did when his mind asleep, and that was terrifying.

He hated the feeling of being out of control.

Will huddled further into the couch, knowing that he should probably get up and go take a shower, but unable to make himself get up.

His legs felt weak and wobbly, and he wasn't sure that he could make it up the stairs at the moment. All he could do was sit here and contemplate what had happened tonight -- and wonder what the core reason behind his sleepwalking was all about.

He'd never done this when he was a child. It hadn't started happening until he'd moved here, actually. Not until he had started using his empathic gift on a regular basis.

He had used that gift when he was a cop in New Orleans, but not like he did now. He hadn't exercised it on a nearly daily basis. It had only been used sparingly.

And he'd never told anyone there about it, either. He hadn't told anyone about what he could do until he had begun working for the FBI -- and Jack Crawford had snatched him up and insisted on using him like a trained animal to bring Jack glory.

Maybe that was the problem, he told himself wryly. Maybe he was sleepwalking because he was being worked too hard, because he was letting Jack use him.

But if he didn't use his gift, people would die.

That was something he couldn't make himself live with. He had this ability, so he had to put it to use. If it could save people's lives, then he couldn't hold it back, even if it damaged him in some ways. He couldn't let himself be that selfish.

Though now, it felt as if the ability was taking him over, taking more and more out of him each time it was used. He was being worn down, diminished.

Was using his empathy so much one of the reasons he was sleepwalking more than ever? Or was it some deeper, darker reason? Will shivered, pulling the blanket closer around him. He wasn't sure if he could deal with finding out the answers to those questions.

But still, he _had_ to. For his own safety, and his peace of mind.

He sighed softly, finally making himself get up and walk to the kitchen. He could use something hot to drink, to warm him up. And he needed to walk.

If he sat here and gave in to the fear that was starting to press in on him, he would only make things worse. He had to get up, to do something, to feel as though he was being useful. If he didn't, then he would succumb to his fears, and he wouldn't do himself any good.

Besides, he obviously wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight, he told himself wryly. He might as well drink coffee; it would keep him awake and alert.

He might not _need_ to be awake, but he didn't want to sleep again. What if his body decided to lead him into another sleepwalking episode and he went out in the rain again without realizing what he was doing? He could end up catching pneumonia.

What he really wanted to do was to dry off, get into his car, and drive to Baltimore, right to Hannibal's house, and let him know what had happened tonight.

No, he wasn't going to bother Hannibal tonight. He'd tell him tomorrow.

Really, what he had to do tonight was to take a shower, to get himself warm, and to settle down with a book until the morning. Then he could call Hannibal, tell him what had happened, and ask if he could spend the next night at Hannibal's home in Baltimore.

The dogs would be all right. He could leave them overnight, and there would be no problem. He'd done it before; it wasn't something to worry about.

No, he had much bigger worries on his mind, such as just why his sleepwalking was becoming such a regular reoccurrence. What was wrong with him that made his body take over like that? It was a frightening feeling to know that he could be so out of control.

He didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to push it all away.

Will moved around the kitchen slowly, starting a pot of coffee before going back into the living room. He really should get into the shower now, while the coffee was brewing.

He'd been drenched to the bone by cold rainwater, and that wouldn't be good for his health. The best thing to do was to take care of himself as best he could tonight, and then get to Hannibal's house tomorrow. His lover would take care of him much better than he could himself.

Hannibal would know what he should do. He could lay all of this at his lover's feet, and trust Hannibal to know what was best. It felt good to come to that realization, to know that he had someone he could lean on who cared for him and would want to help.

What would he do without Hannibal in his life?

He didn't want to think about that, either. If he didn't have Hannibal in his life, he would be a lot worse off than he was now -- and this darkness that felt as though it was creeping up on him to slowly enshroud him would be taking over a lot more quickly.

Will sighed as he headed for the shower, hoping that the rest of the night would go by quickly.


	12. Untamed Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal wants to capture and tame Will without breaking his spirit.

Hannibal stood on the front porch of Will's house, looking around him as he sipped his cup of coffee. He hadn't expected to be here again so soon, but he'd been in DC, and it hadn't seemed much further to drive to Will's home in Wolf Trap from there.

Truth be told, he had really just wanted to see Will, to be close to him. He hadn't seen the young man for two days, since their last sessions, and he couldn't help but wonder if Will was somehow slipping away from him. He didn't think so, but he wanted to make sure.

He'd been surprised, and more than a little worried, to find that Will had walked in his sleep again last night -- in the pouring rain. He had insisted that Will take the day off, stay home, and get some much-needed rest, and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Now, as he stood here on the porch and looked around the area where Will lived, he had to admit that it was quiet and peaceful here. He couldn't see anything even vaguely threatening, even though Will's house was tucked into what felt like a very remote area.

This was a place that he could get used to spending time in, even if it _was_ a bit of distance from the nearest town, Hannibal mused. It was quiet, peaceful, and he could see why Will enjoyed living here. It was a far cry from the rush and noise of being in the city.

He might just spend more time here himself.

Of course, Will would have to invite him to do so, but he didn't doubt that the invitation was coming. With this last sleepwalking episode, Will seemed to be less composed, far more on edge than usual. Hannibal had to admit that it worried him.

Yes, he wanted Will to be kept a bit off-balance within their relationship, but he didn't want the young man panicked and unstable. He wanted to keep Will more grounded, to make sure that he was able to maintain a relationship. He didn't want Will skittish and nervous.

He couldn't help but wonder if this place was good for Will, in the long run. Maybe the young man would be better off living in the city.

But as soon as that thought coalesced into his mind, he pushed it away. Will living in the city? Just as well to try and cage a wild tiger, or a sleek black panther. Will didn't belong within the confines of the city. No, Wolf Trap was his place. It suited him.

Will was part of this place, part of the woods that surrounded it, part of the wildlife that inhabited it. He had no problem seeing Will as one of those wild animals that were probably rampant in the woods. He seemed to fit in with them perfectly.

The young man he knew as Will Graham was an untamed spirit, no matter how much he tried to put on the veneer of society. When that veneer was stripped away, he was wild and free, no matter who might try to collar and tame him.

Hannibal didn't want to tame that spirit. Not at all.

At one time, he had wanted to break Will, to bring the young man under his yoke. He still wanted to have Will for his own, and he was sure that he was drawing nearer to that goal with every day that passed. But ownership wasn't his ultimate goal.

No, he didn't want to break Will. He simply wanted Will to submit to him, to admit that he was his. He didn't want to destroy that beautiful spirit that dwelt with the wildlife surrounding his home; he wanted that spirit to kneel to him, to submit itself.

When he had achieved that goal, then he would be satisfied. He would be happy when he knew that Will was utterly and completely his, yet still retained that wildness, that spirit that set him apart from everyone else and had drawn Hannibal to him in the first place.

If Will lost that, if he became nothing more than just another automaton willing to kneel at Hannibal's feet, then he would lose a large part of what made him intrinsically _Will_. And Hannibal was sure that if it happened, he would quickly lost interest in the young man.

That was the last thing he wanted.

If Will's spirit was broken, he would be a completely different person. Hannibal didn't want him to turn into someone else; he wanted the Will he knew and desired. He wanted the wild, free Will -- but he also wanted that unbroken spirit to surrender to him.

He didn't doubt that it would happen; Will had already more or less capitulated to him in his heart and soul, though his body hadn't followed suit yet. But it would, Hannibal thought with a smile. Will would submit to him, and what was more, he would enjoy doing so.

Will was already his, even if the young man didn't realize that fact yet. He had already given himself over; it was just a matter of time until he realized where he belonged, and who he belonged to. When he did, then he would be completely Hannibal's.

He could wait for that day, Hannibal told himself. He could be patient. That was all it would take, patience. And he had plenty of that to go around.

But he had to admit that these sleepwalking episodes bothered him. Was this a way for Will's wild, untamed spirit to set itself free, to defy the fact that Will belonged to him? In some ways, it seemed that was the case, and he was worried by it.

He would have to bring that spirit under control carefully, without breaking it. He would have to do so gently and carefully, so make sure that he didn't harm that beautiful spirit while bringing it completely under his domination, making sure that he was the victor.

It wouldn't be an easy thing to accomplish, but he could do it.

Especially if they stayed here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Hannibal could feel a smile begin to tug at his lips at the thought. Yes, he and Will would stay here for a while, and he would take some time away from his practice.

He could afford to do so. His patients might not be pleased, but Bedelia had told him in their last couple of sessions that she thought he needed some time off. And what better place to take a little vacation time than here with Will, in the peaceful atmosphere of Wolf Trap?

Yes, it was a plan that would work out well, to his way to thinking. Will would still be in his home, where he felt most comfortable, with the wildlife all around him and his spirit allowed to run free. He would be brought under control slowly, without realizing what was happening.

Bringing Will to his side without destroying that wild, free spirit within him might take some maneuvering, but Hannibal was confident in his abilities. He had already won the first few battles; Will was already getting closer to him with each passing day.

Yes, he would control that spirit without breaking it, he thought, draining the last of his coffee and taking one last look around before turning to go back into the house. It would be a challenge -- and it was one that he was more than ready to take on.


	13. What He Saw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a disturbing dream, and has a hard time telling Hannibal just what he saw.

Hannibal frowned when he heard a knock on the door, a knock that sounded more like pounding. Yes, it _was_ pounding, loud and urgent.

His frown deepened as he got to his feet and made his way to the front door, wondering who would be here at this hour. They were lucky that he had been downstairs in his study, going over a few patient files; if he hadn't been, he might have ignored the frenzied pounding.

But it sounded too frantic to let it go on. He couldn't let whoever it was keep that up; it would drive him insane if he didn't find out who it was and make them stop.

He pulled the door open, ready to reprimand the person outside.

His eyes widened when he saw Will standing there, his blue eyes wide, looking tousled and more than a little .... well, _crazed_ was the word.

"Will, what's happened?" Hannibal immediately felt concerned at the state that Will was in; he had rarely seen the young man like this. Will usually managed to keep his emotions hidden; he was quite skilled at dissembling, at presenting a poker face to the world.

"I-I saw something in my dreams. Something that scared the hell out of me, and I can't get it out of my head," Will blurted out, barging past him into the foyer.

That was unlike Will. Usually he waited to be asked inside.

But it was obvious that Will was upset, and Hannibal wanted to calm him down, if he could. He also wanted to know what the young man had seen.

If Will had seen this in his dreams, then it was very likely only a figment of his fevered imagination, and he shouldn't be worried about it at all. But perhaps it was a remnant of something that Will had seen in his line of work, in which case, it might be more serious.

Whatever Will had seen, he wanted to know what it was, if he could get the agitated young man to describe it. He hoped that Will was in a fit state of mind to talk.

He wouldn't have come here if he didn't want to talk about it, would he? Hannibal carefully led Will into the living room, seating him on the couch.

"Will, what did you see?" Hannibal peered at the young man, trying to read from Will's expression whether this was something he was prepared to talk about in depth or not. Will seemed receptive to the thought of talking, but with him, one could never be sure.

"I-I .... I don't know." Will shook his head, taking a deep breath. "Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe it's not real. But it .... it _felt_ real."

"What was it?" Hannibal asked again, trying to encourage Will to talk.

"It was a .... a stag," Will whispered, his voice trembling. "With a man's body. Well, it was a stag's antlers on a man. And it .... it h-had your f-f-face."

Hannibal blinked, surprised by Will's words. So Will saw him as a stag in his dreams? That was one of the most interesting things he'd ever heard. He had no idea why Will's subconscious would view him as such, but he liked the idea.

A stag was powerful. A stag had .... control. Perhaps that was what Will really wanted, even though he had a hard time admitting to the fact.

He wanted someone to control him.

He wanted someone to take control of his life, because he felt that events and perhaps emotions as well were moving too quickly for him, slipping out of his hands.

Hannibal knew that he could use that to his advantage. He could use Will's fears, his subconscious feelings, to bind the young man closer to him. And he fully intended to do so. That would be a good way to gain Will's trust, to lull Will into complacency.

Will had just given him an open doorway into that beautiful mind.


	14. Save Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will realizes that he can't depend on Hannibal to save him from the monster in his dreams.

"I'm not looking for someone to _save_ me, Hannibal."

Will frowned, shaking his head and shifting in his chair. Hannibal was taking this all wrong. He was looking into the vision too deeply.

Because it had to be a vision, didn't it? There was no such thing as a stag with a man's body. He'd had some kind of hallucination, or he had been sleepwalking again and had simply dreamed that horrible thing. It didn't exist outside of his mind. It couldn't.

 _He_ had given it life with his mind. It didn't exist in the corporeal, waking world. It was only a figment of his imagination, a part of his dreams.

He didn't need to be saved from his dreams.

Or did he? Will asked himself with a soft sigh. Maybe he needed to be guided away from those dreams, for his own sanity and self-preservation.

"Will, what are you thinking?" Hannibal leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, studying Will's face with an intent gaze. "You can't simply sit there and let thoughts go through your head, you know. You need to talk to me, to tell me what you're feeling."

"I'm not sure just _what_ I'm feeling," Will said, sighing again. "I guess I'm thinking that maybe I need to be saved from myself, that's all."

"That is an interesting way of looking at things," Hannibal commented, raising an eyebrow. "I may have to agree with you, Will. You seem to be going further inside your mind, dreaming up images that are quite far removed from any sort of reality."

That was just what he was afraid of. He didn't want to retreat into some kind of dream world. Real life could be threatening enough, in his experience.

He wanted to live in the _real_ world, not the shadowy one of his dreams.

But that seemed to be more easily said than done. It almost felt as though his dreams were taking over, pushing him into a world of confusion and fear.

He didn't want to live in that world. He wanted the mists to clear, to stop having these kinds of visions, if that was what they were. He wanted to have some peace of mind, rather than seeing these _things ___, and not knowing what they were supposed to represent.

How could he articulate that to Hannibal? The other man would never understand; he never had to deal with things like this in his own mind.

No, Hannibal's mind was wonderfully clear.

How could someone who never had to struggle with anything like this understand what it was like? Will asked himself, his hands curling into fists.

Was he actually _angry_ at Hannibal for the fact that his mind wasn't as hopelessly muddled as his own sometimes seemed to be? He tried to relax, to push that anger away from him even as he reluctantly acknowledged the fact that it was there.

He shouldn't be angry at Hannibal. It wasn't his fault that this man couldn't save him. It wasn't anybody's fault. He couldn't depend on being saved.

He had to save himself. Will closed his eyes, trying to force his hands to relax, then the rest of his body. He had to find some semblance of calm.

"You can't save me," he finally whispered, shaking his head. "I know that. I can't talk to you about what I've seen in my dreams, or visions, or whatever you want to call them, and expect you to make it all better. I've got to do that for myself."

"I'm glad to see you realizing that fact, Will," Hannibal told him, his voice very quiet. "You are the only one who can pull yourself out of these visions. Only you."

Will held on to the quiet conviction in that voice.

Somehow, he had to beat back these visions, to turn away from from them -- or confront them, and slay the proverbial dragons on his own terms.

Hannibal couldn't do it for him. It had been stupid to come here, idiotic to try to reach out for someone else. He couldn't turn to other people for help with his own personal demons. He could talk about them, but he couldn't depend on anyone else to save him from them.

No, he could only accomplish that for himself. And as frightening as it was, he had to face those demons on his own if he wanted to put them to rest once and for all.

But at the moment, he didn't feel strong enough to do that.

"If I could stop the sleepwalking, then I could stop seeing things like this," he murmured, hoping that his words were true. "That's where I've got to start."

"I'm not entirely sure that it starts with the sleepwalking, Will," Hannibal said, his tone thoughtful. "I'm not entirely sure where this frightening vision of yours started. But wherever it did, the reason for it is buried in the recesses of your mind. You have to find where it is."

Will shook his head, feeling frustrated. "And how am I supposed to do that? You're the psychiatrist. You're the one who should be able to pull it out into the open."

Hannibal shook his head, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "No, Will, I can't do that for you. I can help you search for the origins of what you see, but I cannot. coax it out. You are the one who has to face that vision, and come to terms with it."

He was right. Will _knew_ he was right. But still, he wanted Hannibal to be the one to save him. He didn't want to face that frightening ..... _thing_ all alone.

But he really didn't have a choice, did he?

 _His_ mind had created whatever he was seeing, and it was his mind that had to face that monster of his dreams. He had to save himself. He had to do it alone.

Will sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back, rolling from side to side as though there was a cramp in his neck. There wasn't, but he had to do something to try to relax, to escape the pounding that was starting to throb in the back of his mind.

He would have to save himself. There was no depending on anyone else, not even Hannibal. The next time he went back into his dreams, he would have to be more .... assertive.

There was no telling what he would find there.

Would that vision be ready for him? Would it somehow _know_ that he was going to confront it, and would it be prepared to do battle, teeth and claws at the fore? He hoped not. That wasn't something that he was ready to deal with.

All he could do was hope that the vision wouldn't come back to him too soon.


	15. His Creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has plans for his future relationship with Will.

He had found the way into Will's mind. It was just waiting for him.

Hannibal couldn't hold back a smile of satisfaction at the thought. He knew exactly what Will needed -- and he wouldn't hesitate to give the young man all that he desired.

Will might not _know_ what he needed yet, but Hannibal would guide him to that knowledge. He would make sure that Will got what he wanted.

And he would also fulfill his own desires at the same time, he told himself. It would work out extremely well for both of them -- well, once Will was able to let go of his inhibitions and surrender himself fully to what Hannibal planned for him. And he had no doubt that would happen.

It might take a bit longer than he planned for Will to capitulate, but in the end, he would. He couldn't hold on to his fears and insecurities forever, after all.

Those insecurities would be swept away, and by the end of their .... experiment, Will would be made stronger. He would know exactly who and what he was.

He would be Hannibal's. His slave. His creation.

Will probably wouldn't take well to discipline at first, but Hannibal knew that he could ease the young man past any doubts he might have. He could soothe Will's fears.

He would bring his creation along easily, bending and shaping WIll into what he wanted him to be. It wouldn't be easy at times, but he had always enjoyed a challenge.

And Will Graham would certainly be a challenge, he told himself, his lips curving into a satisfied smile. He would have the satisfaction of knowing that he had tamed Will's spirit and brought him under control, without breaking him or damaging him beyond repair.

After all, he didn't want to break that beautiful, indomitable will. He simply wanted to exert control over the young man, to shape Will into what he had always been intended for.

Will Graham was _his_. His to guide and shape, his to polish into a creature that any creator would be proud of. Will would be groomed to his specifications.

He already had a hold over the young man; he had known that from the first time that Will had come to him as a sort of patient. He might not technically be a patient at this point, but he was still seeing Hannibal as a psychiatrist on an informal basis, and that wasn't going to stop.

Once they became lovers, the relationship would change, of course. At that point, Hannibal would hold all of the power; he would take the reins of control completely into his own hands.

Will would have no choice but to follow. By the time he realized that he had no control over the situation, he would have also realized that he needed what only Hannibal could give him.

Will needed to be controlled. To be .... tamed.

He was the only man who could accomplish that. He was the only man who Will would bow down to, the only man who Will would allow to control him.

Achieving the level of control that he wanted might be hard at first, but Hannibal was confident that he could do it. He was sure that Will wanted this just as much as he did.

Oh, Will might not _know_ at the moment that this was what he truly wanted -- and needed. But he would come to realize that he was exactly where he belonged, and where he needed to be. He would relinquish full control of his life to Hannibal, and be happy to do so.

Once he had that control, then he would be able to mold Will, to shape him into anything he chose. He would control all aspects of their relationship, such as it was.

First, he had to manage to get Will into his bed -- but he didn't think that would be had to do. He had seen the desire in the young man's eyes, flaring brightly.

He'd seen that desire more than once. He knew that Will wanted him.

That was another thing that Will might not realize yet -- but he would, Hannibal told himself with a smug smile. Oh, yes, he would, and soon. He would make sure of that.

He would quench that desire, satisfy it to the fullest. And he would also use that desire to tie Will to him; he would make Will feel that he would be nothing without his lover. Hannibal didn't think that it would be hard to bring Will to that state of mind; it would only take a small push.

He was nearly there already, really. He was a sweet, flavorful cherry ripe for the plucking; Hannibal would feast upon him, metaphorically, until he'd had his fill.

And after that? He didn't need to make a decision just yet.

He had plenty of time to decide what Will's ultimate fate would be. Though he already knew, in the back of his mind, that nothing could possibly last forever.

At some point, Will would have to become nothing more than a memory. But the time leading to that moment of truth would be exhilarating for both of them -- and something that he would remember for all of his life.

He would create a new and improved Will Graham.

And he would thoroughly enjoy every moment of that creation -- and its ultimate destruction.


	16. You Know Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wonders how well Hannibal _really_ knows him -- and how well he actually knows Hannibal.

"You know me too well, Hannibal."

Will leaned back in his chair, studying the man who sat across from him. Were the words he'd just said the truth? _Did_ Hannibal really know him that well?

He didn't think that he'd ever revealed himself fully to this man. He'd certainly never revealed the desire that was in his heart; he hadn't told Hannibal how he felt.

Should he do that? If he did, what would it lead to? Would he lose more control of his life, and give that control over to Hannibal? Something told him that it would be exciting to do that, to not know what would happen next within the context of their developing relationship -- but that it would also be dangerous.

He wanted Hannibal. He'd wanted this man since they had first met. But something in him held back from letting that desire run free; something told him to be cautious.

There was a part of him that didn't quite _trust_ Hannibal. He couldn't say why, but something within told him to err on the side of caution, at least for now.

Though he wanted to ignore that warning, and throw caution to the winds.

Did Hannibal know him as well as he thought he did? Will had to admit that he'd told his man things he'd never spoken to anyone else. So yes, Hannibal _did_ know him well.

He didn't believe that Hannibal would divulge anything that Will had told him to anyone else. After all, he was a doctor, and anything that his patients told him was protected under the law. So he didn't worry about Hannibal spilling any of his secrets. Unless ..... he sighed without realizing he'd done so.

If Jack Crawford wanted Hannibal to tell him anything of what Will said in their sessions, he didn't doubt that Hannibal would do it. Jack was, after all, the one who had insisted on this.

Of course, Jack hadn't known how he felt about Hannibal.

Jack had no idea that he thought he was falling in love with his psychiatrist. Jack didn't know that he wanted Hannibal, that he felt a deep and intense desire for this man.

And he knew that Jack wouldn't approve of his feelings if he _did_ know. No one would, really. They would tell him all the things that he already knew.

Everyone would caution him that getting involved with his psychiatrist was a dangerous road to travel down, that the risks would far outweigh the rewards. He'd tried to tell himself that, too, but his heart didn't want to listen. And neither did his traitorous body. They both still wanted Hannibal.

Did Hannibal _know_ that he was desired? He'd never given any indication that he had any idea of what Will felt for him. Did he know, and just not show it?

And would it be a good idea for him to at least give Hannibal some small hint of how he felt? Or would that just send the man he desired running in the opposite direction?

No, of course it wouldn't, he told himself. Hannibal wasn't the type of person to run away from anything. But Will couldn't help feeling that Hannibal would turn him down, even if the other man let him down easy. He would simply say that they shouldn't be involved, and gently but firmly push him away.

Then, of course, he wouldn't be able to see Hannibal as a patient any more. It would be too embarrassing to keep on confiding in him, when Hannibal already knew the deepest secret of his heart.

Maybe he already knew, or at least guessed. Maybe Hannibal really _did_ know him that well, and he just kept that knowledge to himself.

How could he find out? Would it be best to simply ask?

"Why the sigh, Will?" Hannibal was staring at him, his head tilted to one side, a slight frown between his brows. "is there something on your mind that you'd like to talk about?"

How was he supposed to answer that? He couldn't simply blurt out his desire here and now; he'd kept it to himself for so long that he didn't know just how to word what he felt inside. He would have to think about it, find the right words -- and the right time to say them, as well.

"I was just .... thinking about how you're right," he finally said, knowing that his words weren't entirely truthful. "That you know me really well."

Hannibal nodded at that, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips.

"I don't think that's entirely the truth, Will -- either that I know the inner you all that well, or that it's what you were thinking of at the moment," he murmured. "But we'll let that go, for now."

Will could feel a blush pinkening his cheeks; how was it that Hannibal could always tell when he wasn't being entirely truthful? This man _did_ know him better than anyone else ever had.

"Nobody else has ever really known me," he finally said, daring to look directly into Hannibal's eyes. "Maybe because I've never trusted anybody to get close enough to me to let them. But you .... you're the only one who knows me better than I know myself, in some ways. And that's a little bit scary."

Hannibal nodded, leaning back and regarding Will with a pleased expression. "That's very true, Will. It can be frightening to realise that another person knows you so well."

"How well do I know _you_ , Hannibal?" Will asked, unable to keep himself from asking the question, from issuing it almost as a kind of challenge. "Do I really know you at all?"

Hannibal smiled at him -- but Will didn't think that smile quite reached his eyes.

"You know me as well as anyone can, Will," he said, his voice very soft, almost seductive. "But I think that in the future, you will come to know me much, much better."

Will swallowed hard, wondering just what Hannibal meant by that. Was the other man giving hm some kind of opening to confess his desires? He wasn't ready to do that yet -- but if Hannibal knew about them, if he'd managed to divine just how Will felt, then it might make the words come more easily.

"We will come to know each other much more .... intimately in the future, Will," Hannibal continued. "But not just yet. I believe that you need to trust me more before that happens."

All Will could was stare at him, wide-eyed.

Were his dreams finally going to come true? Was he going to be Hannibal's, and would Hannibal finally be his? The question was on the tip of his tongue.

But he didn't ask it. Instead, he only smiled, hoping that his expression was as inscrutable as the other man's was. He didn't want to reveal too much. Not yet.

Hannibal might know him well, but not the inner precincts of his heart.

For now, those thoughts were kept hidden. At least, he hoped they were.


End file.
